I wait anxiously, worried about who the final tribute will be. It’s the second Quarter Quell, and this year, the capitol said that we would have to send four tributes to represent our district, rather than two. That gives each and every one of us twice as much chance of getting picked.
My eyes follow the slip of paper that is selected from the Boys’ bowl, and I can feel the fear rising up inside of me. This isn’t good. This really isn’t good.
“And our final tribute is Haymitch Abernathy!”
